


this is it

by from



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friendship/Love, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 06:20:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7789981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/from/pseuds/from
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hong Kong, March 2015. Zayn kisses Niall goodbye. That's not what Niall wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is it

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who prompted me with ziall _21\. things you said when we were on top of the world_ and _22\. things you said after it was over_. thank you for the prompt!

“That’s what you do, yeah?” Zayn says, his bent neck strangely flushed, a soft spread of pink along his skin joining the dark march of his undercut.

Niall can still feel the heat on his own lips and resists the urge to put his fingers to them, to look up into the mirror and spot the kiss there, like a ragged red edge on a piece of charcoal that tells him it’s all lit up now, all ready to go.

He wants to tell his brain it’s not like that.

It’s not like the time in New York when Zayn was out of breath underneath him, warm eyes twinkling, his birdlike laugh a little crazed because a part of him got off on being booed at the VMAs. “Idiots thinking we’re idiots, Niall,” he giggled when Niall wanted to know why. Niall remembers mumbling about negatives crossing out each other, the itch to start moving over Zayn even though they’d never done it with all their clothes off before, Zayn going up on his elbows and putting their mouths together to let him know he could.

It’s not like the time in Milan, the day after the San Siro taping, after Harry’s joke about wanting to fuck him that according to Liam wasn’t at all funny and a night spent wondering where Harry had disappeared to. “It’s just what you mean to him, like—” Zayn coughed when Liam glared at him. “It’s just what Harry does,” he added easily, going back to his comic. And later, when he and Niall were alone and Niall wanted to know what he’d been halfway to saying, “Because in his head it’s like, fine to say whatever he wants to say. Because you never like, take anything too seriously.” It made sense, except in Zayn’s touches there was a carefulness that was new, even when he pulled Niall closer as slickly as he always did, pressed those long legs against Niall’s, tugged at his lips to burning as the Milanese sun set behind them. 

It’s a goodbye kiss, Niall tells himself, and tells himself again when his eyes stray toward the mirror and notice the way Zayn is looking at him.

Niall already heard about last night’s slanging match between Louis and Zayn. He also heard about the mountain of breakfast in Liam’s suite and the conversation Louis barged in to put a stop to. “Fucking embarrassing, the way Liam carried on,” Louis told him, and Niall chuckled like a good friend even though he thought if Louis hadn’t dropped in, he could’ve spared himself the grief, make it easier for everyone.

And now it’s his turn, saved for last – he suspects – because Harry doesn’t do goodbyes, not when he doesn’t get to set the rules.

But Niall doesn’t understand what’s so important about a kiss if it’s only about how things are ending today. He's not even sure he’d like it marked, this weird drop to what feels like nowhere he wants to be.

What Niall wants is a wander outside, an afternoon of doing fuck all except walking through town in slept-in clothes that still smell like studio carpeting and hot lights, Zayn telling him to slow down or move to the side for the prams because he’s too busy looking up at things and pointing them out.

He wants to sit down on the grass in a park somewhere, his knee touching Zayn’s, the two of them with a bag of shopping each from Tesco’s, stuffed with packets of crisps, thick-cut sandwiches, and those little salad things. Every drink they want. The good chocolate, trays of it, and Zayn putting back the ones he’s had a bite of and didn’t like, his nose scrunching.

He wants to lie there afterward, with only the weak light of day moving over him but his face warm anyway because his hand is in Zayn’s and he doesn't know where it's all heading.

There are parks in Hong Kong, his brain reminds him. Their dark greens aren't London’s, but trees are still trees wherever they go. Grass too. And they might not be able to lie so close, but maybe he doesn't want to. He's meant to be angry with Zayn.

“What's the first thing you're going to do when you get back?” Niall asks, putting his hands on his own knees.

“Mum and the girls are coming down. My Dad too.”

“Do they know?”

He slowly looks up from his bent legs when Zayn doesn't answer, and finds those big brown eyes watching him. There's no sadness or worry or shame in them. Maybe Zayn already spent all of it on Louis and Liam. Maybe Niall has never known how to spot any of it.

“You're leaving for good, aren't you?” Niall says. If he can't have his day out at least he can get a foothold to start off with. The drop feels like it’s getting bigger and bigger. He won’t do it. He won’t fall.

“I don't know.”

Niall laughs. “Come on, Zayn. You do.”

“Hard to say right now, innit?”

He looks down at a tear in his jeans, the one over his right thigh, and picks at the threads. Harry told him to stop doing it at the start of tour because the tears look stupid when they're too obvious, but he was also in a snit at the time about something so Niall only half-believes him. “When are you gonna say it then?”

“I meant,” Zayn starts after a sigh, “it's hard to say right now because anything can happen, yeah? I just know I can't stay. I need to sort my head out and I can’t do that here.” He sighs again. “Look, Niall, you get what I’m saying, don’t you? I need to get away for a bit. I need to go home.”

Hong Kong has a nice airport to start a getaway from, Niall’s brain says as he stares at his legs. Took them years to build even though they were rushing it. Land reclamation, bridges, tunnels, traffic control, the little things that make the big things work. They’re all passing through it again today, except Zayn is flying off schedule, off tour. Niall had a talk with someone about it yesterday before the show. He wanted to know why there’s a nine-hole course right by it, and then if the course is already slated for closure because of the noise, the constant coming and going.

“You gonna let me know when it’s sorted?” he asks, wondering again if he’d be able to listen to the sweet whistle of his clubs over the sound of jets roaring as they push off into the sky, heavy until they’re well on their way.

“If you want to hear about it.”

Niall nods, biting his lips so he can focus and say a proper goodbye. He straightens his legs and puts his feet down, gets to standing so he can shake Zayn’s hand. Maybe give him a hug.

Zayn pulls him into one so fast Niall doesn’t even realise he’s already in it until Zayn’s head is tucked into his shoulder.

The blush has almost completely disappeared from Zayn’s neck, but Niall kisses it anyway, in case this is it for now, in case this is it.

~

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading. i'm also on [tumblr](https://fromward.tumblr.com) if you want to say hi or talk fic over there.


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